


Captaincy

by bellygunnr



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Getaway mention, Grief, Introspection, Mourning, Spectralism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 05:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16112225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: "So... What is it? Are you mourning Skids, or vowing vengeance to Getaway?"





	Captaincy

"So... What is it? Are you mourning Skids, or vowing vengeance to Getaway?"

The question has been haunting Rodimus' mind for hours, now that there was some mild calm. It pulled at his brain module and scraped at his cool-colored paint, threatening to peel it back and reveal the hot hues of the past. His spark churned in uncertainty. Why had he chosen these colors? He knew their significance, he had made sure of that, but what was his intent? Change without intent can be dangerous. And Rodimus didn't want to screw up in his faith so early on...

But of course he was mourning. His entire crew was mourning. The loss of Skids was a tragedy of the highest degree-- and there had been a lot of tragedies in his Captaincy. Some he tried to tell himself weren't his fault, but that wasn't true, was it? It was his duty to protect the lives of his crew. A list in the back of his head told him just how many times he had failed. The crushing weight of just how many voted him off the Captaincy reinforced his failures. His metal skin burned with the shame.

Yet, despite his failures, the Lost Light hadn't abandoned him. Sure, there was Getaway's mutiny-- but out from the mutiny came the 'bots who cared, who knew what was right. And how many willingly served it? Getaway was a creature of smooth, buttery words that spun a mech around until they couldn't tell if they had wings or wheels. He was a creature _slipping into madness who believed he was a Primus-given miracle_. Anyone like that could do anything they pleased.

Which is why, ultimately, Getaway was failing. His mutiny was winding free of its coils, flapping loosely in the tempest Rodimus was threatening to kick up. Already the good Sparks left on the Lost Light were discovering his treachery and undermining it. All Rodimus had to do was finish the job-- right?

What did the bruise-like hues of his skin mean? The black and purple encasing his arms-- what did he choose it for? The blue of his crest, his spoiler-- what did he wear it for? What did it whisper in his spark? Did the need to salvage what had been violated outweigh the loss of life...?

Too many 'bots had died under his command.

"Drift."

"Yes, Rodimus?"

"I'm mourning... Orre, Shock, Pipes, Ambulon, Skids, and everyone else who has died since our quest began, Drift. I will mourn them, and keep mourning them, and anyone else we lose."


End file.
